Los Kalabusman
by Eedo Baba
Summary: A Rivenese member of the Black Moeity is caught, and thrown into the Star Fissure, as one of Gehn's cruel experiments. What he finds on the other side will change his life.
1. Chapter 1

Los Kalabusman

I stood at the edge of the great Allatwan, my mouth gagged with an odd slick cloth, and my hands tightly bound behind my back. One of Gehn's loyal gaurds stood behind me, gripping my neck tight, Gehn's strange projectile weapon nudged against the small of my back.

I had been expectng the whark. They all expect the whark. At first, I had been so greatly jubilant about my new fate, but, as I gazed downwards, into the deep, dark, star specked chasm, I felt quite differently.

The distance scared me. For a moment, as my stomach swam, I felt glad I had been gagged. I closed my eyes, before so, seeing Gehn readying at his large bronze telescope. I knew it was about to come, and in those last few moments, I can distinctly remember wishing greatly that it had been the whark. The whark would be quick. I knew that. This... this was... tremblingly unknown to me.

The seconds seemed to slow infinitely. I bit the gag in my mouth, knowing the moment was coming. I heard Gehn order to the gaurd in the language they called "Dunn'e".

And I was falling, the walls of the Allatwan rushing past me. And as I fell, the air rushed past my ears, and my then long hair flew behind me.

The sensation was jarring, staring into the starry abyss, no horizon to relate to. Both body and mind expected the stars to change, to move towards me. But they stayed distant. As I flew, my vision swam, and my body swayed around, back towards the chasm.

It appeared as a solitary rip on an inky cloud of darkness, and this cloud, it seemed, did gain distance, comfortingly.

As I gazed at the Allatwan, I was unnerved by quite a sudden wave of dizzyness came over me. As quickly as it came, this dizzy unease was replaced by heavy weariness.

As the wieght of my eyelids became too much to handle, I felt the breath in my throat catch and hold. As my breath was taken, I fell into an icy stupor.

My eyes opened, and the brightness seared my vision. I felt that I was lying on sandy ground before I saw where I was.

A white hot desert stretched in all directions, sparse bits of withered shrubbery scattered about. The air smelled strange... somehow thinner, and clearer.

It was a moment before I noticed that at least a year's worth of beard had grown in my slumber. Needless to say I was perplexed, and it was a moment still until I remembered my view of the Allatwan,, and my intended execution.

As I lay there, the sun still burning my eyes, I could only scrape one strong thought. Where am I?

The landlocked horizon was unnerving, as I striggled with the bindings on my wrists. Where was the sea? Where was the shore here?

Eventually, after what may have been several hours of struggling, I loosened the ropes enough, to where I could pull the knots apart, and free my hands. As I stretched my arms, I noticed that they felt weak and sore, the muscles receded noticably. Relieving myself of the gag, I noticed painfully that my jaw was similarly sore, hurting when I bit down again.

I stood and looked around. The horizon was flat, the only blemishes being the rare tree, sprouting from the dry soil. As I looked, I noticed a dark shape a few hundred meters away, lying, dark against the bright sand.

I began walking towards the object, and as the distance waned, I could see it's shape, and could tell that it was a thick book. Coming to a standstill as I reached the book, I bent down to pick it up. Only as I held it up, and covered m eyes from the sun, could I see the symbols embossed on it's cover. They looked to be letters, but, not in a language that I understood back then.

I opened the book cautiously, and saw that each page was printed with characters as well, and these I recognized to be the "Dunn'e" language that Gehn and his followers spoke.

Flipping past these pages, I reached the last page.

I gasped to see a moving rectangualr box appear, the world behind it seeming so very real.

I was shocked. I shut the book in my hands, forcefully, and stood for a moment. This was Gehn's work or Atrus'. This was the work of gods, and I was not worthy.

They had said that Atrus had taken Gehn's power when he escaped Riven...

After a long moment, I threw the book on the ground, beginning to walk away.

This desert was so vast, the island it was on must be ten times the size of the old Riven! as I walked, I began to realize my own hunger, and thirst. The air was scorching, and if I hadn't had anything to drink since Riven, I must logically be near death by now, by the length of my beard. But why wasn't I?

I had still been wearing my ellaborate costume when they threw me into the Allatwan, and I still wore it now, over my normal cave robes. My mask and goggles had long since been confiscated by Gehn, to reveal my identity. My small canteen hung from my belt, and still had a meager supply of water.

As I moved across the dry desert floor, I saw again the moving image on the book, and shivered, despite the heat. I was deeply impressed by such magic. I didn't know to think if my hands had been cursed or blessed by touching the miraculous book.

As I thought of it, I removed my cumbersome costume, as the air was blistering, and the extra layer was beginning to feel heavier than I had known it above the Allatwan.

***

What was this world below the Allatwan? I had been able to deduce so far that I had fallen on to this world, but from where? Looking up, I couldn't find the Allatwan in the sky, not even at night.

After a few hours of walking, I began to feel heavier than I had at home. This may have been in my head, or an effect of my then dire thirst, but I was quite convicted that it was a real difference in the ground's pull on my body.

That first night, I was absolutely dejected. The sun was setting as I still walked, my cave robes coated in sweat. As the stars came out, I knew I needed sleep.

I put down my canteen in the direction I was headed, so as to not forget my heading when I awoke.

I lay down on the sand and I cried. The desert landscape had not changed all day. I began to wonder if this was the miserable world after death that Gehn taught the yough children of.

In my despair, I fell asleep. In my dreams, I saw the book's page beneath my face again.

An image of an island flickered there. Suddenly, the face of Gehn flared with the page. A moment later, the page caught fire in my grasp, and I awoke.

I drank from my canteen,nearly emptying it. The sun was at the horizon, it's beams casting shadows on the shallow hills of the desert.

And once again, I began walking.

***

Halfway through that day, my mouth literally hurt with thirst. I had long since been tempted to empty my canteen to it's final drops. I silently wished for it to simply rain, as it had at home, on Riven.

But rain, as if in mock to my anguish, did not come.

***

In the dwindling twilight hours of that day, I was finding my self nearly falling over with the compound effect of thirst and hunger.

As I fell to my knees, I put my head in my arms and sit silently, thinking. The landscape had not changed, once again. This place frustrated and infuriated me so. I yelled at the sky. Maybe Gehn would hear me with his "telescope" device, I thought.

As I looked up again, I noticed the sands beginning to kick up in a strong gust. Within moments, the ground only a few feet before me was obscured in a thunderous raging cloud of sand. I covered my face with my hands, and mentally screamed to get my mask and goggles back.

I crouched at the ground, covering my face and waited for this 'sand-storm' to end.

I sat for more than half an hour, sand constantly pounding at my left side, worming it's way between my fingers to my tightly shut eyes.

As the storm died away, I dared a peek, convinced that I was only imagining it's end.

The air was still, but now, it had gathered into a thin mist of dust, still hanging in the air. I found that my body had a tick grainy coating of sand, as well.

As I stood up, and stretched, I noticed that the sun was setting, casting orange rays through the receding clouds of dust.

Rubbing my eyes, I notced in the distance a speck against the horizon.

Immediately, I knew it was not a tree. It was rectangular, and had the distinct shape of a man made structure.

For a moment, I believed that I was tricking myself. I wanted it to be real, but I think, that after so much misery, I was simply not ready to accept that something truly good had happened to me.

And even if my suspicions were correct, and people were in this structure, what kind of people would live in this 'world below the Allatwan'?

***

Despite my unease, it was an easy decision to move towards the shape. As I the distance decresed, and the clouds of dust receded further, I could see the outline more clearly.

It was a sort of vehicle, of a sort I had not seen before. Thankfully, as the time passed, I was also able to tell that it was stopped. As I got closer, I was able to make out the shape of a sort of awning, slightly diagonal sides.

As I walked, I was delighted to see a human shape emerge from the vehicle, pause, and go to the side opposite of me. After a few moments, he came back to my side. I tried to alert him, to no success.

As I found myself only a few yards, I found that all people here were inside the vehicle. It was a curious vehile, so I looked to the front to see what could be propelling it.

A pair of monstrous animals awaited me. They were odd, tall, furry creatures, with ugly, oblong heads, and sharp hooves, four legs each. They were taller then myself, and I was quite astonished to see such monsters. then I remembered that the man I had seen hadn't happened to be scared to go near them, so I realized that they may not have been as bloodthirsty as a whark.

As I backed carefully away from the creatures, I could here from within the vehicle a group of people talking, in a language I did not understand. I thought for a moment it may be the "Dunn'e" language, but I soon realized that this tongue sounded quite different.

I knocked my hand against the wide wooden door at the vehicles side, sunbaked paint flaking away at my touch.

From the noise inside, I could tell they were very surprised that anyone was outside, in this deserted wasteland.

The door opened, and before me stood a haggard looking man, a confused and impatient look on his face. His dress was strange, and looked closer to Gehn's gaurd's robes than my own people's white cave robes. He wore a worn cloth shirt, covered by a vest that looked to be a type of animal hide. (Perhaps of the creatures I had seen?) A cracked leather hat adorned his head, slightly crooked on his bald head.

As I examined his dress, he seemed just as interested in my cave robes. But before I could speak, he said something in their strange language, which I, of course, couldn't hope to decipher.

"Halo. Mi stap insait Riven. Mi stap lus. Mi nidim wara planti." I spoke, trying to sound out the syllables carefully, but, even as I spoke, I could tell that the man didn't understand. In fact, he actually looked profoundly confused, by everything that I was.

Again, he spoke, seeming to want me to clarify.

Resigned to motions to convey to words, I held up my empty canteen and shook it, trying to indiacte that I needed water.

Thankfully, he seemed to understand, yet still seemed very perplexed. He then held out his hand, to take the canteen. I graciously handed it to him.

After a minute or so, he came back,stoppering the canteen once again. He said another word in his language.

After a moment, he bagan to move back inside his vehicle.

Panicking, I nearly shouted, "Wetim!".

He came back, and said something else, before he pointed around at the desert, and nodded at me, signifying a question.

I shook my head, trying hopefully to tell him I was lost here.

"Senisem?" I said, hopefully, having no clue how to convey that I need transport. To where I didn't know.

For a moment the man hesitated, but then motioned me inside.

Several men sat at low benches inside the vehicle. They were similarly garbed to the man whom I had met first. The air in here was hot and humid, but the shade from the white hot sun was relieving nonetheless. The ceiling was only slightly higher than their heads, and yet it was mostly covered with hooks, food items and sacks of strong smelling herbs hanging from them.

As I looked around the caravan, I saw that a low table sat between the benches, on which the men had strewn many patterned squares. For a moment, I thought it was a business transaction of sorts, but as they moved, and waited, it became clear that they were playing a game, of what kind I did not know.

They seemed so engrossed in their game that for a moment, they ignored the newcomer in their caravan. But, once they noticed, they looked quite wary. For a moment, I was scared of their plans for me, and considered leaving. But, as I glanced back out of the door, which the first man was closing, I immediately decided against it.

As I stood there, taking several sips of clean water from my newly filled canteen, I saw the first man adress the otehrs, who, after a moment, I came to understand, were his subordinates.

The first man he adressed, he bagan strongly with the word "Fillip". which I took to be this mans name. He seemed to be ordering Fillip to do something, of what I couldn't tell.

Next, he adressed the other three in the caravan. Now, he seemed to be generally explaining his own plan, in stead of giving specific orders, gesturing subtly to me as he spoke.

One of the men groaned and looked slightly annoyed, but the leader seemed not to hear him.

The leader walked outside, back to the four legged creatures. After a a minute or so, the caravan jolted into movement, to where, I didn't know.

***

The journey in the caravan was long and silent, interspersed with some small confused conversations. In between these, the men of the caravan would sit play with their cards in the heat.

But, every once in a while, one would get up the courage to try and attempt conversation with me.

At one point, a stout, rotund man had tried to get across by connecting his motions to words. I wasn't entirely enthusiastic, but I did my best to communicate.

First, he gestured to himself and said "Marten". This was pretty simple for me to understand. His name was surely Marten.

I pointed to my self and said, slowly and clearly, "Kala' Kina".

He then looked about for a moment, looking for something else to define for me. Making a wide gesture with his arms, he said "Kerravan".

I copied his gesture, and said, "Senka' Lap". He seemed to understand, and repeated my words, albeit, with a strange dialect.

This went on for more than half an hour, and as at that point, Marten attempted to teach me a very different word.

He gestured to his own mouth, and said several of the words I had learned. He then said "Inglysh", trying very hard to convey his meaning. For a moment, I thought that he meant speech in general, and began to tell him that 'Inglysh' meant "Tok". But, then I stopped myself, realizing that he meant the exact language that he was teaching me.

I nodded in understanding, and said to him, "Rivenese", gesturing to my own mouth in a similar way.

He seemed intrigued, and thought for a moment. He then tried to teach me my first sentence in Inglysh.

"Marten frum Amaerika," he said slowly. "Kala' Kina frum..."

I thought for a moment, and then understood. "Kala' Kina frum Riven."

The man stayed silence for a moment, looking confused. "Riven?"

I thought for a moment, then pointed up.

***

Later on, the caravan was silent once again, as the animals trundled forward through the desert. I knew that eventually they were leading me to a village of some kind, yet what I would do once there was a blur.

I had long since come to the conclusion that I was never going back to Riven. It had been a one way journey, and now I had only to take a foothold in this strange new world, alien, myself, to all others.

As the soft light of dusk once again settled outside the high, small windows, I heard the leader give a small order, from outside. The caravan stopped, the animals having obviously been commanded to do so. Curious, I stood, and looked out of one of the windows.

A village did lay ahead of the caravan, shrouded in the thin wisps of sand and dust that seemed to eternally cradle this desert. The village was not large, given what space was available, but I was stll surprised by it's scale. The availability of water must have been somewhat meager, and I had barely seen a few animals in my trek across the desert.

The buildings were stout and squared, arranged in lines around a central road. I could see people busying themselves with the general upkeep and work, harvesting beets from small, dry gardens, gathering water from a short, red brick well.

As I looked out the window, the leader walked into the caravan from the single door, gesturing to me even as he did so. I retreated from the window and walked with him outside.

As soon as the man had gestured me into the village, he said something quickly, and returned to directly to the front of his caravan, shouting orders at the animals. Before I had known it, the caravan was already far into the haze of the desert beyond.

For a moment, I was affronted, to be left so suddenly. But, I remembered that it had been a kindness for them to simply lead me to the village, which, as I turned around, looked much smaller than I had seen it from within the caravan.

The town itself looked quite simply like a small collection a homes, a few open front stores dotting the road beyond. As I walked wearily into the village, the townspeople, as I expected, looked quite perturbd by my choice of dress. Somewhat embarrased, I moved to the side of the road, where a heavily walked path lay, paved carelessly with old bricks, arranged haphazardly in a random pattern, edges of some of the rocks jutting above the ground.

Passing by the homes, I moved towards the few shops, already spotting the end of the road where the village ended. The shops themselves were small and seemed to sell only what they grew or slaughtered independently.

Moving past the open front meat caravans, butchers hawking their wares to the waery looking townspeople, I made my way towards a larger public building, the only one I could see with a second story. Most of these shops had signs. of course I couldn't read them, but it was interesting nonetheless to examine the characters.

The building toward which I moved, In could see now, was lined with shelves. As I walked inside, I could se that the items sold here didn't appear to have been made in the village. I hazarded a guess that this was the only shop whose wares were imported.

A tall, reedy, balding mad stood behind a counter, eying me as I looked over the shop's goods. He, like everyone, seemed intrigued by my cave robes. for a moment, I moved away from him, continuing to look through the store. Suddenly, he said something in Inglysh, looking as if eager to make any small sale.

I walked over to the man cautiously. From my hours in the caravan, I had ended up learning a mangled collection of Inglysh words, lacking any form of grammar.

As I contemplated what I would say, I realized that i had a decision to make. I could either hang onto a childish hope of returning to Riven, or I could attempt to place myself comfortably in this new world that Filip had called "tha oerld" and "Irth". On the spot, I sadly made up my mind.

"Me Kala' Kina," I stuttered, trying my best to seem confident in my Inglysh. "Need me work... home." I gave the man an eager and desperate look, quite annoyed by the difficulty of the situation.

"Oue wunt a jahb?" Though I knew only half these words, the man did seem to understand in a way. For a moment I hesitated though, before speaking.

"Yes."

TWO YEARS LATER

I stood at the porch of what I had, over the course of the last two years, accepted to be my home. The sun stood at a distant ridge of mountains, it's rays beginning to creep above the peaks.

It was a sight of which, two years prior, I would have been quite astonished at. But, as all things eventually do, this horizon of stone and sand had become second nature. Almost. I still retained a distinct connection to my homeland, with it's glistening shores, and cliffs of sunbaked stone. As much as I longed to, the idea that I would not once again see this land had waned in its effect on me. The shores and caves had become only a faded memory. For this I was sad, yes, and certainly nostalgic, but most of all, it was not the aspects of Riven that I missed, it was my people.

As much as I had grown to enjoy the company of the townspeople, I knew they still looked at me as something alien. Something not so real as themselves. I knew it was not their fault that they did this. I myself was almost as confounded by my past as they were.

Over the years, I had learned to speak English, and even write some words, well enough to get by. I worked a steady job at the general store, also helping with any other work that needed doing around the town. I slept in the small apartment above the general store, which had belonged to the shopkeeper, Patrick's son, before he had left for the East. It wasn't a particularly bad place to live. The bed was larger and more luxurious than the hammock I had grown used to in the Rivenese caves, for which I was verbally grateful to the shopkeeper.

As I stood on the porch, my eyes panned over the horizon, as they usually did, before I started my working day. Eventually, my line of sight drifted to the group of distant mountains that I recognized, for in that direction was the book of magics with it's moving page.

I still, very often thought of the book, though I knew it was useless to do so. What would I do with that book? As I now understood, the writing in it was certainly not English, so I would not be able to read it.

But some part of me wanted to go back to that spot and stare into that page of moving pictures, and see all that it could show me.

I sighed, and glanced again at the sun. It was certainly time to begin the day's work. No time to waste thinking about that damned book.

***

It was two weeks later that the shopkeeper's son came back to the town to visit. Had that not broken the monotony, I now believe I would have been tempted enough to retrieve the magical book. Now that I know the full truth about that book, I am sorely glad that I didn't.

It was around sundown, the town exhaling a communal sigh as it ended it's day. I had just finished closing up shop, same as the day before, and the countless days previous. Once again, I found myself on the porch, glancing about the horizon, the last glimmers of the sun glinting as a dim reflection off of the westward bits of cloud.

I find it important to point out that it had not rained since I came here. Clouds simply were not plentiful enough, and I had barely seen an overcast sky in two years. Latching onto a faint memory, a deep, faint part of me had the shimmering thought, that this place's goddess of rain must have perished in some magnificent battle in the sky. This part of me, I realized, smiling at it's innocence, had not been at the forefront of my consiousness since my childhood, when Gehn had come to Riven and proclaimed his own godhood, killing our feeble Rivenese gods with a single blow.

As I stood on the porch, my gaze once again drifted over to the distant mountains that I knew marked the direction of the mystic book. But something was odd, shifting, in the everpresent veil of dust. For a moment I thought that the minute darkening was only the clouds moving past each other, but after a few seconds, it became clear that a horse was galloping toward the town.

A horse and rider appearing from the distant, almost uninhabitable desert is not entirely amazing, but it certainly was rare. What gave me pause was that the horse was appearing from this direction. As far as I could tell, no one had come or gone in that direction since my arrival here.

As the horse and rider approached from the dust, I could make out more details. For one, the rider was male, average height, somewhat ambiguous looking, yet with an air of enigmatic geniousity that I find hard to describe to this day. His dress was not entirely odd, but not normal for desert travel. He wore a dress shirt (ragged and dusty from his trek, of course), having a business man's coat with small tails slung over one of the horse's saddlebags. He wore a stout top hat, the left side looking a tad crumpled, albiet adding to his air of bewildered calculation. Growing nearer, I could see that his glasses were small lensed and crooked, one lens even having a small crack in the corner. I pitied the man somewhat for this, because from what I knew of business, he would probably have to wait until he was back East before this could be repaired.

As he rode up, he steered the horse toward the shop, his eyes catching mine in an odd, investigatory way.

After clumsily getting off of his horse, this stranger began walking towards me. Knowing my way around this world's customs, I held out my hand, saying "Welcome. You are the owner's son, are you not? My name is Kala. Kala Kina."

"Yes. Nice to me meet you. Are you new to this town since I last visited?"

"Yes. I would explain, but you would probably like to meet with your father. I believe he is inside."

"Thank you, Kala. I've just come from an archeological expedition near a dormant volcano to the North-West. My team remain there now but I thought I should come to my hometown for a few weeks. We should talk later, but yes, I should be meeting with my father."

It was a moment before I realized that he had not given his own name, and it was a moment more before I realized how odd it was that I had not known already. I was about to ask him, but he had already gone inside. Having nothing else to do, and now quite curious, I decide to follow.

Walking up the stairs behind him, I set myself down in the small sitting room. The owner was milling around in the adjascent room. Having apparently heard us enter, he came out to see, and caught eyes with his son. I thought for sure that I would learn the man's name in the coming conversation. However, I was sorely dissapointed.

"Ah, my son!" the owner exclaimed, giving the man a firm hug and sitting him down on the opposite set of chairs.

"Hello father. It's so good to see a familiar face."

"So, what have you been up to? I see you've met the town's newest resident, Kala." He gestured to me. "Your letters tell me only so much, my boy. What have you been doing that's brought you so close to home?"

"Me and a group of six other men have been working at an archeological dig site up at the dormant volcano."

"Ah, the one that's haunted by that odd old woman?"  
"Not anymore. We came across a few things on our way out to the main calderra, but whoever had lived there was long gone."

"Ah. I see. I suppose that's better. She wasn't exactly a nuisance, but she certainly kept people away frm those parts."

"The dig was going well, so I knew I had to ride out here and stay a few weeks in my home town."

"I'm glad you did at that. I'll get you something to eat. You must be thirsty as well."

"Ah, thanks. I am."

When the owner had left the room, I was now curious enough o ask a question that had been burning on the tip of my tongue.

"On your way from the volcano, in the North-West, did you happen to come across a book?"

The man seemed dumbfounded, his eyes wide with bewildered shock. "Why yes... actually. How.... how is it that you know that?"


	2. Chapter 2

"I think I've seen the book. You see, I.... I.... came from a place, a different island... called Riven. And I was.... anyway, I ended up in the middle of the desert, and I found a book. An old book, with foreign writing in it. And.... and.... and a moving picture inside of it."

The man stayed silent for a moment. He seemed to be considering something. I couldn't understand why he didn't just answer outright. Then, he spoke, albeit, shortly.

"Did you touch that moving picture?"

"Wharkana! No.... no...." I was slightly embarassed at having lapsed into Rivenese. "I ran away. I was confused."

"Hmm..." The man stayed silent again. Below, in the kitchen, the owner sounded like he was only beginning to cook a large meal. Then the man spoke again, "You see... Kala.... when you touch the image on the book, it takes you to a fantastical island, somewhere out in the distant sea..."

"Riven?" I asked, foolishly, knowing that this man could not tell me.

"I do not know. It was a large island, but there were no people there."

"Oh." I was saddened for a moment. I had hoped that perhaps the book was an actual way back to my home.

"But, getting to the point, on the island, after a few days of exploration, I came across many manmade strcutures, in perfect condition! Near to where I awoke, there was a massive library! Thousands of books. All of them were written about 'ages' which I think is what this man calls islands, that he can.... Here.... let me show you." For a moment, I thought he was about to remove the mystical book from his bag, but after a moment I recognized that this was a different book. White, with blue stripes. Oddly, the edges were slightly charred. "Most of the books in the library were burned beyond reading, but this is one of the ones that wasn't. It's a journal, it looks like. About an island that the man called Terrel... Here. You read it. I fear that I shouldn't burden anyone else with this knowledge. Not yet. You're my only confidante, Kala." With this he handed me the book. "I have the book that takes you to the island. If you wish to explore there yourself, I don't have the right to refuse you, but please tell me, because I would like to have company on my next excursion there."

I was speechless. The journal lay in my hands. I flipped through it's thin, weathered pages, but still found myself regretful to believe. At last I managed to form words.

"You say that this book takes you to this... island. How have you gotten back?"

"There was another book like it on the island. Near the back of the library, in a small alcove. It returned me to a spot a few miles from the volcano."

"Hmm... I will read this journal," I said. "This is real, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes, Kala, I'm afraid so."

Later that evening, I got a chance to look at the journal. I was sitting in bed, reading by the light of the full moon in my window, when I decided to open it's pages and read. The first few pages I found blank, save for a few small notes. Among these were small numbers and equations that I didn't have a clue about, so I skipped through to the first actual entry. I noticed that these pages were stained faintly with splatters and drops of water.

_Here I sit, in a small cave. It's raining like I've never seen before outside, and I'm not sure when it will stop. This is my first tentative visit of a somewhat experimental age. Inhabited, in fact, or at least I hope so. The Art is so devlishly tricky when it comes to making an age suseptible to lifegiving situations._

_This age happens to have a binary system of moons, inspired by an experiment on Gravitation. However, with the current weather, I worry I may not get to see them on this trip._

_I left Catherine and the boys back on Myst, as I always do on my first journeys, just to be safe. I'll never forget the day I linked to an expectedly normal island age, Jorael, to find that the air was so toxic that I was forced to leave immediately. Having looked back through my work, I found that it was one simple mistake that had caused the shift in gas levels._

_The age has so far been as I had planned. The experimental aspect of this age is that most of the ocean is covered in a foot-thick layer of ice. Strong volcanic vents under the islands allow that ice to melt and support life, albeit in a relatively cold climate._

_I arrived on a small islet off the coast of a larger land mass, where I believe life should dwell. On my arrival, I was still pleased to find that barnacles and algae, as well as some odd, three legged crabs had developed on this islet's rocky shore._

_I should close this entry soon though, and get some sleep. Tomorrow I plan to swim through the water to the large island, as I believe that during the day, the water will be warm enough to swim. The distance is minimal. I should be able to make landfall by noon._

_I now sit on the beach of the large island, albeit a bit shaken. My trip through the narrow bay was not uneventful. The water is filled with fish, most of which were too small to affect my travel, but one was especially extraordinary._

_The water, I should point out, was quite deep in the bay. The creatures I speak of were the mammoth in size, and had oddly bioluminescent eyes. They didn't seem to have mouths, so I believe I was safe. Still, I am certainly glad to be out of the water. One of them got a bit too close for comfort._

_I noticed that when they breached the water, they had large horns jutting from their front. They looked tough, and sharped by erosion in the water. I think these creatures may be mammalian. When out in the open ocean, they may use these horns to create holes in the ice, through which they can breathe. The horns may even act like a straw to obtain air through. All speculation though. I should continue with my exploration._

_I'm thankful they have allowed me my journal again._

_The inhabitants are hostile. I sit in a gaurded cave, which acts as my prison._

_They seem quite advanced. They live in homes built of wood from thin, reedy trees that grow in the island's inner forests. They mainly live near the coastline, as I might have guessed. The coast on this side of the island is less rocky, and has a pleasant beach which reminds me of Myst._

_Their skin is a very pale, almost blueish color. Their eyes are sunken, and more often than not a vibrant blue. They, of course, speak a language which I cannot understand. It is closer to English than D'ni, but has a gutteral quality that niether approaches._

_I have lived in this, my prison cave, for about a day now. They feed me, I was glad to find. Usually a cooked, ground meat that I must say looks nothing like fish, which I expected to be a main part of their diet. The water as I swam over seemed very saline, but the water they gave me was clear and fresh. Either they have a good source of freshwater (which I doubt, considering the size and climate of the island) or they have a reliable way of purifying their water, as the Rivenese do._

_Only one gaurd is standing by the caged entrance to my cave now. From what others have said to him, I gather his name (If they have a system of naming, which, for all I know, perhaps not?) is Tch'erle._

_I dare not try to escape without their consent. That is no way to start diplomacy with a new people. I will attempt to persuade this gaurd of my good intentions. Of course, the differing languages will serve as a barrier, but I must persevere._


	3. Chapter 3

_I write now from the small island off of the coast, once again. I'm afraid this first trip has gone very badly. The islanders did apparently see the gateway image in my Myst book. Thankfully, they didn't link through, but they decided that my apparent witchcraft was enough to banish me from their island. I shall link back to Myst after I finish writing, but I'm stumped as to how I should continue research of this age. I surely can make small day trips to this small islet, but this will leave me ignorant of the people's culture, and how it came about in a world of this one's properties. I did find out that this world is called Terrel by it's people, though I still am ignorant of the context. They could have been referring to the island, the planet, or the whole of their universe, for all I know._

_I close now. I'm quite hungry, and am looking forward to seeing Catherine and the boys after my incarceration on the main island. I do hope that I find time to continue my work here, but I've actually been pondering on a new age recently. I might just put my exploration of this world on halt until I can clear my head in this new age._

Kala flipped through the rest of the pages. They were blank. Apparently, the man had never found time to come back to this world, Terrel. Or,if he did, he began in a new book.

**Part II**

I watched as he placed his hand over the moving image on the page. He looked me in the eyes.

"Follow me swiftly."

And he was gone.

My stomach tumbled. He had explained to me what I would see, but it was an altogether different thing for it to be there. The air around him had seemed to bubble for a moment, though it may have been a trick of the light. Either way, I was startled as the full wight of the book was suddenly in my hands.

There it was. An island, living beneath the page. It was quite large, and had a wooded peak, built on top of which was some sort of tower. This was the only detail I saw before I took the plunge and brushed my fingers against the image. The surface was cool and smoky to touch, liked dusty crystal.

Then the page grew and seemed to envelope me. I felt a sickening lurch, and was surrounded by black. My lungs were pressed by the void. After what seemed only a moment, I felt I couldn't live any longer without another drop of oxygen.

Then I was on the rocky shore, gasping for air.

I stumbled and fell against the sand, pebbles and sharp seashells stinging my hands. I lay on my back and coughed repeatedly, shivering violently, despite the lack of cold. I my naive terror, I closed my eyes, concentrated for a few moments, and was able to get control of myself.

I sat up. My companion stood on the shore, composed, looking around at the condition of the beach. He nodded, which I took to mean we had ended up in the right place. At this reassurance, I took the time to look at the landscape myself.

The beach was narrow, being encroached upon by a thick pine forest. Above that, the land rose steadily towards the peak I had seen, very few areas naked of trees. A thick mist hung in the air, under an overcast sky. The surf was choppy, I saw as I turned around.

A long pier stretched out off of an outcropping of bare land about ten feet down shore. The pier extended into the mist, ending at nearly it's threshold of visibility. Then I noticed something quite strange. A monumental water vessel lay under the surf, only it's mast and lookout post visible a hundred feet above the waves. I must mention that this vessel was quite unprecedented for me. We had used small boats on Riven for fishing, but never anything as large and seaworthy as this. I wanted to explore the vessel, but my companion was walking into the pine forest, gesturing me to follow.

I grudgingly did, walking behind him as he continued along a well tread path that I had barely noticed. He removed a folded paper from his pack as he walked, looking over it and nodding.

"You should take this and look it over," he said, handing me the paper, "It's a map of the area of the island I explored, and all of the landmarks. We're heading to the library now. It seems to be the nerve center of sorts."

"But.. the boat... What... is it doing there?" I said, taking the map.

"I... don't know. I checked around. There's not really anything of interest about it as far as I can tell."

"Hmm... What are these other landmarks?" I asked.

"There's the ship, here on the West shore. There's the Library, to the East of the ship, in the forest. And then there's the cabin to the North of that and the... well... I don't really know what to call it. It's like a sort of giant, fat metal dart, on a platform on the coast to the south of here. When I found it, I noticed some wiring leading further South, and began to follow it, but it was getting dark, so I decided to go back after about a mile."

"Hmm. Why would you want to power a giant dart? Or could it be that the dart is powering something else?"

"No idea. The library's only a couple of miles up this path. We should make it before sundown, then stay there for the night."

We made it to the library as the sun was sinking through the mist, it''s foggy shape dimming in the haze.

The library itself was quite a large building. Two floors, and wide. From what I could tell, the exterior was almost solid marble. With no windows, it seemed quite forbidding, but that feeling faded as we walked through the tall oak front doors.

The interior was warm and welcoming. The ceiling of this main chamber extended up both floors, with a walkway around the border of the second floor. From inside, I could easily see the reason for no windows. Tall shelves full of books covered the perimeter of the room. More shelves were lined up in rows throughout the floor, with a reading area in the center.

We immediately walked to the reading area, setting down our previsions and taking a rest. The reading area was octagonal, with an ornate rug in the center, and eight large chairs sat facing the center.

Looking up, I could see a massive octagonal mural of a blue clouded sky, above a large metal chandelier, also eight sided. The effect was quite impressive.

The two rows of shelves extending to the far wall, opposite the doors ended in two paintings. One of them showed the mountain that capped the island. One showed the library itself.

Walking up to the first, I noticed a miniscule seam about a half an inch into the perimeter of the painting. I put my hand to the painting, touching at the seam for a moment. To my surprise, I felt the interior of the painting give to my pressure. I pressed harder, and the painting pushed into the frame about half an inch. I took my hand away, the painting returning to it's original position.

I was about to turn and say something about this, when I heard a low scrape. I froze. The library had been entirely silent, but now I heard the nearly imperceptible, unmistakable sound of wood slowly scraping against wood, echoing through the vast library chamber.

I turned. For a moment, I thought it was my imagination, but there it was. The shelves of the central back shelf were shifting back into the wall, then lowering into a shallow series of stairs, leading into a narrow passage lit by buzzing halogen lamps.

I looked back to speak of it, but he stood standing behind me, as grinningly awestruck as I was.

"Nice find," he said with a chuckle, "Let's take a look shall we?"

The space was narrow, but certainly traversable. The walls were of aged panels of wood. The light was a sickly yellow green, and the corridor gave the sense of being in a crevasse in a cramped mine shaft. Only after a few minutes of walking did I notice that the space was actually becoming a real rock tunnel. The ceiling became more and more varying in height, and I had to actually duck down to fit in a few places.

At last, we emerged into a cylindrical space, about 15 feet across, paneled with threaded metal sheets. At the center, stood a wide column, with a sliding metal door.

Next to the door was a small white button. I tried it, but found it did nothing. Then, I cautiously opened the door. The inside of the apparatus clashed brilliantly with the dank, cave like corridors we had just left. The walls were paneled with gorgeous red-stained oak, lit comfortably by an overhead light.

A small linearly operated lever and a box of backlit printed text sat invitingly next to the sliding door.

The text currently read "Library" in solid Arabic lettering, all capitals.

Waiting to be joined in the small but comfortable space, I tried the lever.

To my disappointment, it wouldn't move. For a moment, I was stumped, then I understood, and pulled the lever out to a secondary tier of selection. Now it moved with ease, from three vertical positions.

The first was the current level, "Library". The second, below, read "Household". The third, above, read "Tower".

Interested more by the Tower, I pushed in the lever at that level. Immediately, I could hear gears springing into motion. A second, interior door, closed. This one had a window, albeit small, viewing, currently, the threaded metal of the exterior sliding door.

Then, suddenly, and unexpectedly, the car jolted downwards. The motion ended as soon as it started, probably one floor height below the chamber we had just left. Below us, some metallic part of machinery snapped into place. Or at least I was hoping it was 'into' place, and not 'out of'.

We then began a fast sideways acceleration, obviously now on a sort of monorail-like system.

I was expecting this acceleration to stop quickly, but to my surprise, it simply continued. After a minute, it was moving so quickly that it was difficult to stand on my feet. My traveling partner (who's name, by now, I didn't really feel it was very pertinent to ask) was also having this difficulty.

All this time, which was growing into several minutes, the view out of the window did very little to reveal the position of the car. Almost all of the time, there was simply a pitch dark wall of rock and soil, illuminated only by the dampened light from the interior of the car.

All of a sudden, brakes screeched from below and the car quickly ground to a halt. Outside the window, there was now a concrete surface. I could tell that now we were once again in a vertical shaft, and this was proven correct as the car began to ascend.

As the car accelerated, I became aware that outside the window, was a sort of amazing display. As the car moved upwards at a stupendous rate, there appeared a painted counter of depth. It appeared that at every few feet, there was painted the depth of the car. The numbers were aligned quite perfectly, so that when moving past them at great speed, they created a fluid animation of numbers, swiftly decreasing toward zero.

At around 50 feet I expected the car to at least show some sign of slowing, but it did not. Not until 5 feet did the brakes once again spring into action, jarring me almost to the point of falling over.

As the car stopped, the windowed door slid back to the right, and left the exterior door to be easily slid to the other direction. As we both stepped out of the car, we got our first glimpse of the mountain tower.

It was magnificent.

Perfectly open to the air, it was made of polished pine. It was basically a wide deck, extending to the edge of the cusp of the mountain at the island's center.

Directly ahead of the elevator car, A telescope stood, bolted to the railing. As I approached, I could see that it was certainly pointing at something, so before I attempted to move it, I peered through the lens.

It was pointing directly at the sunken ship. The fidelity of the image was amazing. I could see the crash of the surf against the aged wood, making out details that I would have left unnoticed even at close range.

It was then that I understood that the telescope could not be moved. It was bolted securely to a ball and socket joint, atop one of the railing's posts. But the joint was inoperable. It seemed it was controlled from elsewhere. How odd.

I heard a call from the other side of the tower, and made my way back there.

"There's something written on the back of the elevator. They're dates."

And so they were. In a small wood framed box on the back of the elevator column, there were three dates printed in the same meticulous manner as that in the elevator.

OCTOBER 11, 1984

10:04 AM

JANUARY 17, 1207

5:46 AM

NOVEMBER 23, 9791

6:57 PM

Feeling a bit unprepared for this, having pen nor paper, I glanced at my partner. He removed from his coat a thin book and a very eastern looking fountain pen. The book was noticeably burned around the edges, so it must have been one from the library. As he opened it though, I saw it was blank. A good idea. I should remember to pick one up myself when we get back there.

"Got them down," he smiled, "Might be totally useless though. Perhaps this whole tower is only a memorial for the crashed ship, and those dates are related."

"Hmm..." was all I could muster. I felt out of my league around him. He always seemed one step ahead of me in his thoughts.

"Doesn't seem to be anything else around. But since we have such a great view of the island, I'm going to add to my map. Might take a while. Feel free to go back to the library without me."

"No, that's fine, I'd love to help you out. Besides, it's a gorgeous view."

"Yes." He set about scanning the landscape and making corrections to the topology of his map, adding annotations and such.

I walked to the opposite side and did the same, searching through the groves of pine trees for any sign of construction.

It was only a moment before I did.

Off the coast of the far shore, veiled in mist, lay a tiny separate island. At it's center was a monumental clock tower. It must have been easily half the height of the mountain itself. The clock's face probably stretched further than I could run given ten seconds.

"Take a look at this!" I called. He was there within seconds, and registered the tower as soon as he appeared.

"Wow. You think it works?"

"Maybe. Might be powered by water. In which case it wouldn't matter how long this place has been deserted."

"Remember. We still don't know for sure if it is."

"What?"

"Deserted. We don't know for sure. Be cautious."

"Ah, sure." The was a certain disquiet about the last two words he said. Be Cautious. They simply rang of bad things to come.

"There's the dart I told you about." He pointed down onto the landscape below. Near the tree line lay a platform, on top of which sat a long, shadowed bronze shape, bleached dull by the erosion of wind, surf and sun.

"It certainly is odd," I said, staring intently.

Silence. I looked up. He had already walked to the other side of the tower.

Eventually, something else caught my eye. Something much more subtle. Deep within the forest of pines there was a tree that towered over the others. Normally, I wouldn't think much of it, but after a second look, I spotted something quite odd at it's base.

A hint of red, striking against the lush green of the forest, was hiding at the base of this central giant. I decided I would mention it when we left.

The muffled rush of wind started to decline in volume as the elevator car began to fall. The sound of intricate mechanics filled the car as it accelerated downward.

Six items total had been added to the map. The cabin had also been pointed out to me, to the north of the library. Most we found were only subtly visible through the trees. There was the tower itself, the central tree, the clock tower and three others spotted over the course of an hour long search across the forested hills of the island.

One was a monumental gear. We didn't spot it for a while, because it was at the far end of the island, near somewhat to the clock tower. But once we did, we could easily see that it was massive. It was perpendicular to the ground, halfway sunken into a constructed platform.

The next we found was much less visible, and we were still unsure what it was. It was to the south of the library. All we could see of it was the roof. It was dome shaped, and lightly colored. Other than that, no clue could be seen.

The third was more easily visible. It was a tiny greenish brick building. It was mentioned to me that it was almost certainly the source of the cable leading to the dart. The trip back to the library passed in thick conversation, discussing what these things may be for, what the nature of the books were, and other details.

When we arrived, I immediately began browsing the shelves for a suitable blank book. I found one quickly enough, as the shelf beside the passage seemed to be stocked only with books of this type. It was a thick, leather bound book with thin pages. I flipped through them quickly before I was satisfied. Now to simply find a pen.

"Do you know where there might be a pen in here?"

"What? Oh, yeah. On the northwest corner there's a shelf with pens and inks."

"Thanks."

I walked around the octagonal structure, making my way to the northwest corner. There it was. A shelf of drawers stood out like a sore thumb, surrounded as it was by myriad books.

The lower shelves seemed to be only jars and jars of ink, ranging from white all the way through the spectrum to black.

The upper drawers held individual thin wooden boxes. Opening one, I found a beautifully crafted fountain pen, made of brass. Putting it in my pocket, I made my way back to the central reading area.

It was at this point that I noticed the small labels on each of the octagon's rows of shelves. They made no sense to me for a moment, then I realized they were Dunn'e numbers, the oblong boxes with such intricate patterns of lines.

I had never learned to read them, and now I wished I had. The idea of exploring such a vast quantity of books without anything to guide me seemed daunting.

There were so many. And so many burned. The pages fell to ash when turned. Of the rest, all were simply journals. Each an island of it's own it seemed, except for a few puzzling ones. As I pored over those books for hours, as the sun on Myst grew lower and lower in the sky, I found myself beginning to understand that what these traveling books did was not simply go to another island on a simple ocean, but they "linked", to use Atrus' term, to Ages, places that seemed entire worlds to me now, entirely separate in reality itself from the other ages.

And this Atrus. He was no mere explorer. That became obvious from the start. He created these places. These realities. He "wrote" them. Perhaps in Dunn'e.

The very thought brought a great clarity to my own history. All of a sudden, I had a somewhat feasible explanation for what had happened to me that day at the edge of the Allatwan. Perhaps I had performed a "Link", just as described in these books. Perhaps my old world was truly that. An old Age, an old reality, that I had simply shifted from in a way I couldn't yet become close to imagining. The idea made my skin ran cold. The memory of falling into that deep slumber as I fell still haunted me, to be quite truthful. The coldness of the void that I had fallen into had set me on a path towards another reality and away from the one that I had known and sworn to protect from the outsiders like Gehn and his son. Atrus.

That was another thing entirely. Atrus was Gehn's son. I kept no judgmental fashions toward offspring of those whom I disliked, but the idea that THE Atrus was the one who had created this world, and had filled a Library with links to them, just staggered me. Him, the one we were so unsure of. Now it seemed I had my hands full of reasons to give him credit, their pages crisped by the fires which had burned their neighboring partners.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't long before we found the map. It was tucked away in a corner of the library to the northwest side. From a distance, it was colored oddly, so it looked almost like a vaguely descriptive painting of a landscape. Closer, you were able to see that the colors were only a cursory overlay. The real content was in the thin lines sketched over these blurred shapes.

The outline of the island was lightly portrayed here. On top of these were small dots, tiny and black. Comparing these to our own map, we were able to see that these were in the same general place as the points of interest we had spotted from the tower.

Touching the painting lightly, I noticed that it was rough paper stretched over a hard surface, probably wood. But then I felt that beneath each of the black dots, this surface was noticeably raised. I cautiously pressed against one of the black spots. The raised surface beneath clicked downwards. A button.

I waited for several moments, in uneasy anticipation. When nothing occurred, I almost began to speak. Then, under my feet, I realized that I could feel a subtle rumbling. It reminded me greatly of volcanic tremors on Riven, something I had not felt for years. But at the same time, I knew of course this was not a natural phenomenon. For one thing, how could a tremor be triggered by a button?

No, this was mechanical, I was sure. As held my breath and felt these vibrations, I began to hear the ghostly sound, so quiet I was unsure if I was imagining it, of the tinny scrape of stone against stone.

It stopped.

You felt that?

Yes.

After searching the library for the source of this sound, we came to the conclusion that it had indeed come from the tower, as we had expected. By this time, the island was shrouded deeply in a post-twilight veil.

We were yet to explore the Household option through the elevator, but we agreed that the tower warranted another look, considering the circumstances.

As the car slowed to a halt, and both doors were slid to the side, we exited the vehicle. At first, everything seemed the same. The telescope stood ahead of the elevator and I began for a moment to grow annoyed, as I had thought very much that this had been the source of the sound.

Then I realized.

The tower had turned. Or rather The world turned was the thought that first sprang to mind, as that was how it certainly appeared. Instead of facing the clocktower, the tower now faced the South, the direction of the brick building of which wiring from the dart supposedly led.

I walked up to the telescope, which now pointed in a noticeably different direction, supposedly having turned with the tower. I looked through the lens, flecked with bits of dirt.

The telescope now pointed directly at the gears. I could now see closely that where they sank into the ground, there was subtle machinery surrounding the edge. The platform on which the gear sat also contained a small wooden console with one lever, on a platform of it's own to the side, partly obscured by the trees.

I stepped back and saw that my companion was gone. I walked to the other side of the tower. He stood copying down the message, which I saw now had also changed. It said in the same bold lettering, 2:40 and below that, 2,2,1 .

Got it , he said, Ready to go, I think we've got a few more settings to check out.

Perhaps I should stay here, and you turn the tower, I said, It'll go a lot faster if we're not going back and forth.

Good idea, he took out a pocket watch and wound the mechanism, I'll give you a minute for each setting.

Alright.

And he was gone. I noticed that as the elevator closed, he glanced down at his watch again.

As I waited for him to get the rest of the way to the library and rotate the tower, I took the opportunity to study the telescope again. The cylyndrical body was made of the same red oak as the interior of the elevator. I could see that in the past, it had probably looked polished and beautiful, but currently wind and rain had degraded the wood, and airborne dust had lodged in the crevices. I looked into the lens again. For a moment, I began to study the gear again, but then I noticed at the top of the lens was a measurement of degrees, counted off in Dunn'e numerals. At the moment, it was resting at halfway between two of them. They looked almost identical, but one had a slightly different second box.

Just then, as I was studying the shape of the numbers, the ground shifted under my feet, and I fell back onto the ground. As I lay there, the clouds, currently shifting to a twilight hue of purplish orange, turned above me.

I got up, holding onto the rail of the tower for balance, and the tower stopped. Then, the telescope turned, first pitch, the sound of minute gears sliding across each other, then yaw, the sound of a weight sliding into place. 


End file.
